


Reichenbach fall

by NerdyWolfy



Series: Writing Drabbles [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyWolfy/pseuds/NerdyWolfy
Summary: Sherlock's just about to jump, can they get to him just in time?





	Reichenbach fall

The air around them tensed as they looked up at the roof. The phone on speaker, the shotgun fired, two best friends staring up to look at the friend above. Nearly four years—four years!—and they never thought he would do this. They expected so much from the high-functioning sociopath but never this. The skies turned grey, their worlds crashing down within an instant. They couldn’t let him do this; they couldn’t because they wouldn’t. They couldn’t see him die, not by this. They wouldn’t let Sherlock Holmes _die_.

 

“Sherlock,” Nivia spoke with her voice cracking and tears cornering her eyes, “everything isn’t a lie, I know this! _ _We_  _know this. Please, Sherlock, don't do it.” the man took a step near the edge his breath shaking.

 

He was actually scared. For the first time, Sherlock Holmes was scared. He was scared of dying. The more he tried to find a probable reason the more he was led to dead ends. He felt as if he was dying from corruption. He wanted to speak, he wanted to scream. Dear God if he could do all of those things he would shout and curse the world out. He didn’t want to die he wanted to live as if he was free. He knew the fact though; that everything comes to an end after all.

 

His movements were stiff as he stayed up there—arms to his side, staring straight ahead, even his legs going numb. He knew what was going to happen, he knew the destruction he was going to cause, he just regretted it. He knew once he typed _Lazarus_ , he knew once he agreed to Mycroft, but he just couldn’t help but he felt so guilty, and it was about to tear him up inside. He wanted to break down, he wanted to cry, he wanted _someone_ —but no one came.

 

A single teardrop fell from his eye as he sighed deeply. Oh, how he wanted to tell them, how he wanted to explain everything. He couldn’t explain over the phone, he couldn’t do anything about it. He just looked ahead trying not to face John and Nivia. If he did, he’d regret it. Looking at their faces with fright, it only made him feel guiltier. He couldn’t face them because of the lies that were spitting out of his mouth. He felt horrible, he felt useless, he felt as if he wasn’t in control anymore. He felt as if he was a fraud, a liar, an imposter, everything in between. The only thing he couldn’t lie was about the friendship he had between the two. John Watson; his wonderful blogger who’s been there for him, all in his times, all his wondrous times, strange times, useful times. Nivia Aiello; the groundbreaker, the psychologist, the advocate, his _everything_.

 

Nivia looked up at Sherlock, he never faced them and always looked forward. She took a big gulp as tears started to run down her face. There were very few people in the street, so whoever was there stood and faced the man standing on the roof. Her heart was breaking, her eyes were turning red, her nose becoming stuffy, everything just shook beneath her. Tears stained her face and only left a burning sensation on her cheeks. Her eyes bloodshot red and swollen from crying. Tears stung her face, and as much pain she was in couldn’t match the pain within her chest.

 

She wanted to get up there and stop him but her legs never ran. Everything was just frozen. Her heartbeat was beating slow but felt fast, every time she’d look at Sherlock her heart would race, but that feeling was gone now. Her heart was beating, but for the wrong reason. It wasn't love, it was just the overwhelming emotion of _fear_. Fear arose in her, as her hands quivered. She didn’t leave Italy only to have her only love die.

 

John stared at Sherlock, he wasn’t looking for where he was looking but rather just looking at him. He didn’t want his best friend to die but he thought this was all some sort of sick joke. He wanted to yell for him to come down and to stop playing the joke, but the words never came. All the words that came from his mouth were words of telling him to get down and signs of anxiousness. Four years he’d known him, he loved Sherlock as if he was his brother. Four years wouldn't be spent for anything, not without Sherlock. For once he saw something in his eyes flash, the world without Sherlock. Of course, he had lived with himself before Sherlock and was quite content, but this time he can’t see himself without him. Sometimes he didn’t know how he lived without him, a push-pull if anyone could say. They push each other only to be pulled back in. A support bar isn’t called a ‘support bar’ for nothing.

 

“Sherlock.” John quietly spoke with the phone in front of him, “This isn’t...this isn’t you. Please come down.”

 

“Nivia,” Sherlock spoke on the phone and her attention went towards the phone.

 

Nivia awaited the words he was going to say, she didn’t care what he said all she wanted was for him to get off the roof. She took another big gulp and sniffled. Sherlock’s breath quivered as he closed his eyes. “I love you.”

 

He tossed the phone to the side of the building. Nivia couldn’t believe her eyes, he was actually going to do it. The phone hit the ground but no crack was heard. The two stood there, tears brimming Nivia’s emerald green eyes and tears starting to fall from John’s eye. He leaned forward and felt his body lift into the air. Nivia’s body felt weightless as she fell to the ground holding her hands across her chest screaming out in unbearable pain.

 

John’s eyes widened as the phone call had ended, his hands shook as his breath did too. He couldn’t imagine life before because of the flashes, now he couldn’t live now without Sherlock. Two words fell from Sherlock’s lips as his body lifted into the air, wind in his hair, and the wind between his fingertips.

 

He remembered—he closed his eyes feeling weightless but feeling all of the weight of the world upon him. He remembered when Moriarty took the shotgun when the shot was heard, and the cause of all of this. He knew everything was his fault— was it his fault? He didn’t see any wrong in this, but why did he feel guilty? He toyed with the emotions of Nivia and John, so why was he beating himself up?

 

He was weightless in the air, feeling as if he could fly, but how could a man with a heavy a heart as his _fly_? He had it all planned and how he was going to die. Everything was planned, the death, the suicide, everything. He didn’t understand his feelings in all of this. Why did he feel so guilty when none of this was his fault? He wasn’t at fault for devising this plan, he also wasn’t at fault for making John and Nivia feel pain. He didn’t choose how they reacted, all he chose was where he was going with this.

 

He remembered a story his mother once told him. He never was the one for nostalgia but he thought now was the time to remember it. She told him never to go to the top of something dangerous such as a building or a cliff. The story was gruesome for a child his age, but he wanted to know why he was always nervous when he stepped up to a high place. Well, the story went on to tell of a place in Switzerland where there was a struggle. Two foes, she never told him their names, fought and struggled on the waterfall until one of them eventually fell off to their death. He never was afraid of heights; he just held a great deal of caution with them.

 

Two words fell from his mouth as he fell. He would rather have that be his last words, and the nostalgia be his last memory, as he plunged into darkness.

 

“ _Reichenbach fall_.”


End file.
